Rosemary: The Mysterious
by 39addict101
Summary: Ever wonder about Rosemary, the Giver's daughter? Here's my version of her, and some of her story.


**Is it just me, or have I noticed that this fandom is really dead? I wonder if there's a way to change this...*cough***

 **WRITE MORE STORIES PEOPLE!**

 **Ok, sorry. Anyways, enjoy. :D**

Rosemary had always been the sure one, the confident one, the courageous one. Nothing had prepared her for what her father would teach her.

He taught of pain, of cold, of heat. Of grief, pain, sorrow, happiness, and love. But the day when she came in to her father crying in pain, it was then that she knew that she loved her father.

She had taken the pain, and instantly regretted it. She hadn't been able to sleep. All she could think of was the images that were flashing through her mind.

It was all she could do to live.

She had applied for release.

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Rosemary had ran through the woods, crying. Her father could help her, she knew. He had always been able to help her in time of trouble.

She had found him in his bunk, with a look of something on his face that she didn't know. She had come in crying, and the look had disappeared, being replaced with something that she would later recognize as pity.

She had come to him, crying, that her best friend had been moved to a different class and now could not talk to her.

He had comforted her, held her, while she poured out her sorrows to him. Then she had wiped her eyes, straightened her back, and announced, "I'll be fine without her. I never really needed her anyways."

Her father had watched her walk away, with a look of steely determination in her eyes. He later told her it was then that he had personally selected her for the next Receiver of Memory.

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When Rosemary had first started, her father had shown her cute things, puppies, kittens, and something called an elephant. Then he had shown her what heat was, and a fire, licking hungrily.

But when she had cried out when a mosquito bit her, he had had pity on her, and had not shown her those things anymore.

But soon, he had run out of pleasant memories, and had given her more and more painful ones.

But there was nothing good to end with. Instead, he had always ended with some horrible scene, which Rosemary had bravely accepted.

But the day when she had found him on the floor, screaming in pain, he had accidentally given the memory to her, and she had run out, confused and shaken.

The memory had run through her brain, over and over, and over, and over...she hadn't been able to sleep. All she'd been able to think about was the death, the dying, the pain.

She had not come in for training the next day. It took too much effort to simply get out of bed, to walk, to think, to see.

She looked out her window, and seen the children. How they ran, with no pain, in a carefree, colorless, meaningless world. She had grieved, grieved for them, and for all the things that they could not know, and grieved that she could not go back to being like them.

Her father had come into her room the next night, asking her what was wrong.

She had buried her head in her pillow and begged him to leave. He made her think of pain. She saw the hurt in his face as he left. She knew he loved her, but she knew that she could not love anyone, not without the pain.

Pain chased her for a long while. No one heard or saw from Rosemary. No one knew that she had secretly applied for release.

She never got up to say goodbye to her father. She didn't want too. She knew what release was. She knew that she would not come back to the land of the living.

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Rosemary lay on the bed, waiting for the final injection. She knew that she her father would receive the video. She knew that she was even know being watched.

She turned, looking for the camera in the undecorated room. The Caretaker walked in, with the final needle.

She looked up at her. The girl was tall, and wiry, with a kind smile. "Let me do it." She said, grabbing the needle.

As she stuck it in her arm, she found the camera. "Tell my father, The Receiver of Memory." She stated, her voice trembling. "That I love him."

She felt the cold liquid slide into her veins, and she waited, waited for the nothingness to envelop her.

At last, Rosemary felt the blur of nothingness coming over her, and she smiled. She lay back, and closed her eyes for the final time.

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The Receiver of Memory stared at the screen in shocked silence. His daughter, the one he had thought could truly be able to understand him, and LOVE him, had killed herself.

She had asked to put the final injection in. But his only comfort was that his daughter had known what love was. She had told him she loved him.

He blinked, and rubbed a gnarled hand across his tired blue eyes. Next time, he would not fail. That would be his strength, knowing that his daughter, Rosemary, the love of his life, had told him she loved him.

He would be strong, for her. He would live on, for her. He would not fail, next time, for her.

 **So there isn't actually that much in the book about Rosemary...so I'm hoping that I did this ok.**

 **Please leave a review and tell me what you think. I love constructive criticism.**

 **Until next time,**

 **39addict101**


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